


Balance

by crossingwinter



Series: Star Wars Drabbles & Ficlets [4]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015), Star Wars Episode VIII: The Last Jedi (2017), Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: 69 (Sex Position), F/M, In Which The Author Is Unrepentantly Freudian, Sexual Content, Smut as Character Work, Smut as Philosophical Exploration
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-26
Updated: 2018-01-26
Packaged: 2019-03-09 20:47:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,567
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13489458
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crossingwinter/pseuds/crossingwinter
Summary: “It’s about balance, Ben,”his uncle had chided.“Knowing how to keep your needs matched with the galaxy’s.  There is no emotion, there is peace.”





	Balance

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally posted over in [just you.](http://archiveofourown.org/works/13229922/) but I got indecisive and decided to break it out into its own oneshot.
> 
> It was also inspired by [this meta](https://ohtze.tumblr.com/post/169094630983/kill-the-king-and-take-the-crown) so there's that.

There are two moons in the sky—one for each of them.

 _“It’s about balance, Ben,”_  his uncle had chided.   _“Knowing how to keep your needs matched with the galaxy’s. _There is no emotion, there is peace._ ”_

But his uncle is wrong.  

It’s  _in_  emotion that there is peace.

 _Balance_  is knowing what you feel, and why, and knowing how to act upon it.

 _Balance_  is not having to scream to hear your own voice.

 _Balance_  is the way her hands feel upon him beneath the two moons, when it is just the two of them, as it always should have been.

 _Balance the dark with the light,_  he thinks as he suckles at her breasts.  They are sweet breasts, he thinks, not that he has any to compare them to.  The last breast he’d sucked had spilled milk into his greedy, infant mouth.   _Knowing what you feel, and why, and how to act._

He feels peace with his lips on her nipples, pulling them gently with his teeth, rolling them between his lips.  He feels peace with her hands in his hair, the way she runs her lips and nose against his scalp and curls herself around him as nuzzles at her.  She makes little contented hums as he kisses, and he can feel them against his head through her lips.  

She is the one good thing that has ever happened to him.  His soul knew it before his mind did, before his body would know the sweetness of her hands at the intersection of skull and spine.   _I did not know it then.  I did not know what I felt.  Just that I felt._ There had been no balance then, but Kylo Ren had not been one who searched for balance.  

Ben does as his tongue twists around stiff pink flesh, as his hands rest on her scapula, as he sits there at her side and there are two moons in the sky, one for him and one for Rey.  Ben strives for balance as he moves his lips from one breast to the next and one hand floats to the nipple he’d just left and he rolls it between his fingers, playing with it–a gentler toy than any he’d known.

Rey kisses the top of his head and he feels her shift her hips.  He is not sitting between her legs–there is nothing between them at all, yet she undulates slightly, searching for friction to ease the need growing in her, a simple reaction to basic arousal.  That has been there in their balance as well–that beneath everything else, there has always been some basic arousal.  He feels it as she does.  He feels everything as she does.  

He feels himself through her skin, that Force connection only stronger now that they approach equilibrium than ever it was before.  The Force connects the light in him to the dark in her–balance.  His own chest prickles the way hers does, and he knows she feels the tingling in his scalp, the thumping of his heart as she holds him.  He even feels her arousal in his own, though hers is wet and his is hard.  He feels his hips begin to roll as well.  Unlike her, there is skin for him to rub against, the curve of the outside of her hip against him–soft and strong.

His heart beats harder than war when his skin touches hers.  It was easier being a monster–soulless, heartless–than it is to have her sighing under his hands, than to have his erection pressing into the unyielding flesh and bone of her hip.  He feels as though his heart will beat too fast and explode out of his chest when her hands slide to his jaw and tilt his face up so that she can kiss his forehead.  She runs a thumb across his cheek, along the scar she gave him, the scar that created him as she knows him now, and whispers to him, “Ben.”

Her breasts are sweet, her lips are sweeter when he sits up and pulls them to his own.  There is nothing better in the galaxy than the taste of her lips after she’s just said his name.  From her lips, his name is a benediction.  From her lips, his name feels truly his.

She gave him his name.  He’d thrown it away, had hurled it out into the great vacuum of space, and she had brought it back and given it to him, with the same tongue that named him monster, with the same tongue that dances with his own.   _Balance._

Balance is one hand at each of her breasts, balance her hands cupping each side of his face, balance is feeling what she feels, knowing what she knows.  Balance is knowing what it is to be someone else.  Balance is loving someone else.

Because he does love her.  A carnal love, yes, but something deeper than that as well, something purer.  His soul was born again in her when she gave him back his name.  His heart is too full of her to have room for anything else.  She is the sun around which he revolves.  She is the moon that lights his nights.

 _It’s in emotion that there is peace_.

The youngling’s code, over the knight’s.   _Emotion, yet peace.  Ignorance, yet knowledge.  Passion, yet serenity.  Chaos, yet harmony.  Death, yet the Force._ He is the child of her unfailing compassion.  

Ben is too full of her for there to be any more war in his heart.  There is no room for memory, no room for pain.  He’ll stare into the sun until he goes blind to the world around him and smile as he does so.  He will lose all that he was in her, he will let his past go if it means that she smiles into his lips and whispers his name again, and again, and again…She actually smiles into his lips–or does he smile into hers?  What does he feel?  What does she feel?   _Chaos, yet harmony._

Her hands slide down from his face.  She rests one just above his heart, but the other she dips lower.  She runs her fingers over the length of his penis, her touch lighter than a butterfly’s and he groans into her mouth at the same time that she whimpers and he feels her own hips increase the speed of their undulation.  She knows what her touch is, and he loves the taste of her lips but he will forgo them for her.  He kisses his way down her sternum, down her stomach, nuzzling at the dark hair that grows above her sex.  Then his lips find hers again, and the feel of them against her skin makes more of her gush, makes more of him seep.  

She spreads her legs to his lips and he runs his fingers along her thighs and groans at the touch of phantom fingers along his.  He slides his tongue into her, laps at the tangy wetness of her and remembers the smell of the sea when first the Force had connected her to him.  What boundless oceans he would swim in to stay forever by her side?  What tides can he taste in her cunt as she rolls herself onto his tongue?  Somewhere, an ocean away, he feels himself twitch in time with his tongue.  

And then he feels her own lips, her own mouth against him, and he chokes “Rey,” into her sex.  Her tongue traces the veins of his shaft, circling his tip before she takes him inside her and his hips buck against her face.  

_Balance._

Her hands find his thighs, and it is that first battle all over again when they fought side by side, back to back–except there is no enemy, no fear of her death.  Just her hands on him, her mouth and lips and tongue–and his own as he suckles from the sea between her thighs.

He is awash with it–tremors that send fire from his cock to his lips and back.  He is lost in it, lost in her.   _Lost, yet found_.  He could bury himself between her legs forever, drown himself in the life he finds there, knowing that when all is said and done, it is the dark she tastes in him, as it is the light he tastes in her, intoxicating to each of them, and that that is its own sort of balance.  

What life this core between her legs brings him.  Can she feel it too?  Does she understand?  She has to, even if she doesn’t.   _Ignorance, yet knowledge._ She has to know what he feels just as he knows her heart is pounding in his throat, as he knows her lungs’ ragged gasping for air, knows her twitching sex beneath his lips as he pulls his tongue from her slit to the nub of nerves that makes her fingers tighten against his legs.  She has to know what life she gives him as she gasps over his penis, as she convulses under his tongue, as her awareness goes spinning out beyond them.  She has to feel the way her pleasure spills into him as he cries out into her cunt, and ejects into her waiting lips–life and death balanced in his heart.

_Death, yet the Force._

_Ben, yet Rey._

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed this, come say hi over on my [tumblr](http://galacticprideandprejudice.tumblr.com)!


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